The long eyelashes, as delicate as crow feathers, fluttered slightly. Nianyang's hand touched the man's buzz-cut head resting on her shoulder, softly rubbing it, "Tingyan..."
"Don't speak, I want to be alone." Li Tingyan seemed to be sobbing, his deep, magnetic voice sounding extremely aggrieved, with a slight quiver.
Nianyang was silent; she felt she hadn't said anything yet, was he already so aggrieved?
Their roles seemed to have swapped; his reaction made her feel a bit deranged. When did he become so good at pretending to be pitiful?
If he threw a tantrum, yelling, she could at least muster some confidence.
But with both the crying and the whining, she was at a loss with no place for her words.
After a while, the man started to move his body slowly, still keeping his head down, gently pressing his face against Nianyang's lower abdomen, moving very lightly.
Nianyang felt a bit ticklish, but couldn't push him away, so she called out,
"Tingyan?"
"..."
